


To Rend

by MagitekUnit05953234



Series: Plus Infinitive [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentioned Gladiolus Amicitia, Mentioned Noctis Lucis Caelum, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 23:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: Ignis mends everything. Clothes, wounds, plans. With a needle and thread of varying metaphorical value, he mends.





	To Rend

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2 am

Ignis mends everything. Clothes, wounds, plans. With a needle and thread of varying metaphorical value, he mends. Darning Noctis’s unraveling mental health with yarn pulled from Ignis’s own bones, stitching patches into Prompto’s bleeding flesh to cover the scars he placed there himself, embroidering finer details into Gladio’s strategy so he doesn’t cut himself down in the fight to save someone else. 

Mending, mending, aways mending. 

Tonight, Ignis rends the thread from his own mind, digs crochet hooks into his grey matter, pulls apart the sewing machine just to get more satisfaction from throwing each part into the wall. Forget the darning, the patching, the stitching. Today Ignis is ugly and selfish and it feels  _ good _ to hear his neurons drip from his dressmaker shears. 

The sight is less pretty in what passes for the light of day these days, where luminescent technicolor gives way to copper and dirt, staining the perfect white wool he had been saving for a scarf for the colder months. 

He can’t see it, but the tackiness coats his fingers and the iron ties a dainty knot in hs tongue and stays where it may there. He can’t see it but he  _ knows _ . 

“Oh, Ignis…”

Ignis doesn’t look up because there is simply no point to it. He pulls at the tiny end of a string poking out from the sleeve of his shirt. “Would you leave if I asked?”

“You know I can't.”

“I know.”

Prompto sits on the floor beside Ignis, making no indication of discomfort as his left pant leg becomes soaked through. “I'm gonna fix you up, okay?”

Ignis breathes out. “If you must.”

And he is mended, for a little while, by someone else's thread. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter [@compromisedunit](https://mobile.twitter.com/compromisedunit)


End file.
